Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This
by LaylaBinx
Summary: Eames had seen Arthur come back to reality in nearly every way possible but he'd never seen him come awake swinging. Not slash but can be read that way if you chose :D
1. Sweet Dreams Are Made Of These

**Hello all! Just an idea I felt like playing around with! :D Okay, so I'm not sure about everyone's ages but I pegged Arthur to be around 26-27. If that feels off for some reason just let me know! ^.- BTW, the title came from Marilyn Manson's version of this song. If you've never heard it, its crazy/awesome/creepy!**

**None of them are mine, I'm just playing with them =p**

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Eames always found it surprising that they could still dream. Maybe not to the extent of a normal person, but it was a dream nonetheless. Your own dreams were boring though; it was nothing compared to the worlds created in the minds of the Targets they had for their jobs. As Ariadne had once said, "Its pure creation." And that was a problem because after a while, your own dreams became nothing more than boring substitutes for the work that was being done elsewhere.

He didn't know what the others dreamed of when they weren't hooked up to the machine. He tried to picture it a few times but realized he'd been in this business for too long when he found himself creating dreams and projections for each of them. He was sure each of them had their own way of dreaming: Cobb's were probably in layers (he'd been doing this longer than any of them had it Eames really couldn't see him dreaming any other way). Ariadne was creative, the architect, so her dreams were probably elegant layouts, stories just waiting to be told. He wasn't sure about Yusuf or Saito's dreams, he'd never been around either of them long enough to really question it. He was pretty sure Arthur's dreams consisted of nothing but a long road, leading to nowhere. Honestly, the young man had no imagination whatsoever.

His dreams on the other hand had always been a bit strange. They were the snapshot kind of dreams, various pictures and images randomly thrown together deep in the recesses of his mind and projected upward when he was asleep. They were never logical, they didn't follow any kind of story or pattern, and they made absolutely no sense even on the best days. It had gotten worse since the Inception job; spending too much time in those dreams had done wonders for his already slightly cracked psyche. But these dreams were different, they felt...dangerous. Like if he was in any one of them for too long, he'd never get out. Maybe it was all that talk about limbo.

He found himself developing a bit of insomnia. Sleeping pills didn't help and he didn't want to be put under if he didn't have to be. So he wandered around the warehouse late at night, wondering about his team mate's dreams and trying not to focus on his own. He'd gotten into the habit of watching the others sleep recently (that came out a lot creepier than he meant it to). Being awake when no one else was resulted in him studying the odd quirks and habits his sleeping team mates had. It helped pass the time.

When they were on a job, Cobb almost always fell asleep at his desk, his body slumped over a pile of folders and files and his head resting on his arms. That's the way Eames found him tonight. They were currently working for a law firm and there were going to be not one but two dream jobs going on at the same time so the preparation was extensive. He'd been gathering information for a little over a week.

Ariadne was asleep on a couch a few feet away, curled on her side and breathing deeply. Eames noticed she slept like a cat and wondered if she was even aware of it. Her knees were drawn up close to her chest and her hands were tucked beneath her chin protectively. She always slept quietly, hardly moving through the entire night, and it was always peaceful to watch her sleep.

Yusuf slept like he'd been tossed out of a moving vehicle. He sprawled all over the place, arms and legs flung in all directions and snoring like a bear. He was asleep in a recliner at the far end of the building, one arm hanging over the edge of the chair and his leg propped on the desk in front of him. His mouth was open, head tossed back, and he was snoring in long, deep draws. Eames considered waking him up but it wouldn't work for long; once he was back asleep he'd go right back to the same routine.

And then there was Arthur. Of all the members of his team, Arthur was the one who intrigued him the most. He could never really be sure what Arthur dreamt of but he knew he'd never see it on his face. The younger man slept without any kind of facial expression, almost like he was in a coma. Usually people have a relaxed, content expression on their face when they sleep but not Arthur. His expression always looked...well, it looked like Arthur.

Eames had always been curious about the Point Man, there was something about him that piqued his interest. He knew nearly everyone's history in the group, where they'd come from, what their background was, but never Arthur. It was almost like the younger man had gone in an purposely deleted every record that could be traced back to him, everything from dental records to speeding tickets. And it was damn frustrating.

That was part of the reason Eames liked to pick on Arthur more than anyone else in the group. He wanted to get a rise out of him, get him angry, make him smile, anything that would help him understand him better. When they'd first started working together, Arthur had made it very clear he didn't care for Eames to be in the group. He called him irresponsible and unprofessional and made his dislike for the Forger well known to everyone in the group at the time. That only pushed Eames further; he wanted to know how to push the kid's buttons, how far he could go, he wanted to find out more about Arthur and why he acted the way he did.

Arthur was asleep a few feet away from the others, stretched out on a dusty old couch they'd found at a garage sale. The three piece suit had been removed in favor of an undershirt and a pair of dark flannel sleep pants. Had it not been for the rigid posture even in the throws of sleep, Eames would have guessed this was what Arthur would look like if he wasn't working for Cobb. The younger man's arms were crossed over his chest, head fallen to one side and dark hair falling over his forehead. It was kind of nice to see him without it slicked back sometimes.

Eames walked closer, studying every aspect of Arthur's sleeping form. As the Forger, he was used to taking in details and mannerisms from the people around him. No one ever had the exact same expressions or behaviors, everyone had something unique about them. Everything about Arthur was unique, from the way he almost always slept with his arms crossed over his chest or how he was never caught bare foot unless he was getting out of the shower. Even the frown lines that appeared between his eyes when he was upset were distinctly his. The frown lines that were appearing now.

Arthur shifted ever so slightly and had Eames not been there, standing over him and watching, he never would have seen it. The Forger cocked an eyebrow and leaned a bit closer, watching for the subtle movements that indicated Arthur was dreaming. He found himself sitting on the edge of the couch before he realized it, watching carefully.

Arthur frowned deeply in his sleep, his hands clenching into fists across his chest. His breathing increased a bit and his eyes squeezed shut a bit tighter. Whatever he was dreaming, it wasn't good. Eames weighed his options, wondering whether or not he should attempt to wake the younger man up. He knew he'd had dreams in the past where he was wishing someone would wake him up and it never came. Reaching out carefully, he placed his hand on Arthur's shoulder and nudged him gently. "Arthur."

Eames had seen Arthur come back to reality in nearly every way possible. He'd seen him wake up with a jolt when they knocked him out of his chair, he'd seen him wake up slowly from the drugs, he'd woken up with a gasp when he was killed in a dream, and everything in between. He'd never seen Arthur come awake swinging though.

The younger man bolted upright, swinging wildly with a tightly closed fist and nearly catching Eames in the jaw. The Forger managed to avoid the first hit, catching Arthur's wrist and holding it tightly. "Arthur!" He hissed, trying to get through to the younger man without waking anyone else up. "Arthur!" Another fist swung at him and he couldn't avoid this one, the blow catching him in the side of the face. He winced, reaching out with his other hand and grabbing Arthur's other wrist, pinning both of his arms to his side. Arthur was still only semi-conscious, struggling violently against him and trying to break free. However, his sleep-slowed reflexes were no match for Eames' fully awake ones and he was unable to break loose. The Forger grabbed him then, pulling him into a tight embrace and keeping his arms pinned to his sides. "Arthur." He breathed into the younger man's ear, feeling him stop struggling slowly. "Its me, love. You're alright...you're dreaming..."

Arthur stopped struggling, leaning against Eames' shoulder and breathing hard. "Eames?" He asked, his voice breathless and unsure.

Eames could feel Arthur's heart pounding against his shoulder, the ryhthm fast and erratic like his breathing. He held on for a few more seconds, making sure the Point Man wasn't going to start swinging again, before he let got of Arthur's wrists and rubbed his back lightly. "That's right." He said softly, keeping his voice quiet and as non-threatening as he could. Coming out of a dream like that must have been hard on Arthur's nerves. He kept his hand on the younger man's back, feeling his breathing and heart rate begin to slow down a bit as reality sank in around them. "You've got a hell of a punch on you, love." He teased lightly as Arthur finally pulled away from the embrace and ran a hand over his face.

He dragged his hand through his hair, shaking his head slowly. In the dark, rumpled and sleep-mussed, Arthur looked the way any other 26-year-old would look after waking up from a nightmare. He was slightly disoriented, his eyes still glassed over with sleep, and he shook his head again, pushing his hair back away from his face. Shame too, Eames kind of liked the unkempt look.

"Sorry..." Arthur mutered after a few minutes, looking up at the Forger still sitting next to him. He caught the slight sweeling that was already beginning to form on Eames' cheek and made a slight face. "...for hitting you." He finished, almost as if he wasn't sure what he was apologizing for at the beginning.

Eames smiled, suppressing the wince that accompanied the motion, and shrugged. "Not your fault." He said lightly, hoping it would take some of the edge off the issue. Arthur is silent again, staring at the floor, and Eames shifts a tiny bit closer. "Wanna tell me what the dream was about?" He asks carefully, knowing the conversation could easily be shut down all together.

There was a heavy silence, a pregnant pause that filled the entire building. Finally, Arthur shook his head slowly, still staring off into nowhere like he was trying to remember. "I don't know." He said simply, shrugging one shoulder uselessly. And that was it, there was no point in pressing further.

Eames sighed softly and nodded. "Alright, well I was going out for a smoke. Care to join me?" He knew the invitation wouldn't go unanswered; after the Inception job, they all had their nightmares and it was easier to be in a group than by yourself. That's why they were all crammed into this warehouse almost every night because no one wanted to go home and face the dark alone.

"I thought you quit." Arthur said in response, frowning at the older man.

Eames chuckled softly. "I've quit lots of things, darling. None of them ever permanently." He stood slowly, offering his hand to Arthur and waiting.

The younger man hesitated for only a second before accepting his hand and allowing himself to be hauled off the couch. He followed Eames to the door, looking around the warehouse at the other sleeping members of their team almost enviously. Eames couldn't blame him, he'd been feeling the same way recently.

The night air was brisk but not cold enough to be uncomfortable. It was mid-November, the trees shedding their leaves like and overcoat and scattering them across the sidewalks and streets. The stars could just barely be seen over the sky line, the glow from the streetlights making them almost invisible. It was late, well into the early morning hours, but neither man looked at his watch. There didn't seem to be much point.

Eames sighed and stretched, resting his back against the brick wall and tilting his head toward the sky. He lit a cigarette, taking a long, slow drag of the acrid smoke and letting it fill his lungs. Arthur leaned against the wall next to him, staring out at the street silently. Whether he was simply enjoying the silence or lost in his own thoughts, Eames couldn't be sure. Either way, he hated the silence.

"You know, I used to have a re-occuring dream when I was younger about falling off the roof of a building or a cliff and then right before I hit the ground, this giant crack would open up and I would keep falling." He took a slow drag of the cigarette, gesturing vaguely with his hand. "I was never really sure what it meant, but I remember having the same dream over and over when I was growing up. It was bloody frustrating too; I always wanted to just hit the ground so I could wake up."

Arthur smiled softly next to him, a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. Another companionable silence fell between them, nothing but the sounds of distant street cars filling the void.

"I never really remember my dreams." Arthur said finally, keeping his voice low. "The only time I remember them is when we're hooked to the machine. Otherwise, its just dark. Its always dark." He shook his head slowly and Eames could tell he was hiding something but decided not to press it. "Most of the time it stays that way, nothing but darkness. But every once in a while I'll get the feeling of being chased, like someone or something is running toward me and I can't get away fast enough. Then it grabs me and there's hands everywhere and I can't get free..." He shook his head again and leaned back a little bit further into the wall.

Eames nodded slowly, never saying anything but content to just offer his presence. That explained why Arthur had lashed out at him but it didn't explain the dreams. Then again, he couldn't explain his either so it was a bit of a moot point. With a shrug, he tossed one arm around the younger man's shoulder's amicably and jostled him a bit. "Well, its a good thing you have me around to wake you up, hmm?"

The Point Man allowed another tiny smile to cross his face. "You won't be saying that the next time I punch you."

Eames smirked. "Just not in the face, love. That's the money maker."

The two fell into silence again, standing outside quietly and watching until the first rays of dawn crept onto the horizon. Eames knew he couldn't make Arthur's nightmares go away, he would be a fool to think he could. But he could at least offer to chase away the demons when it came down to it.

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**Hope you all liked it! :D**


	2. Newspaper Clippings

**Hello all! I know I originally started this story as a one-shot but I had so many awesome readers asking about Arthur's dream and wondering what it was about that I decided to extend it a little bit and get a bit of a backstory on our favorite Point Man :D Hope you all like it!**

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It had been five days. Fivedays since Eames had taken the punch as Arthur struggled awake from his nightmare. Five days since he'd seen the lost, haunted look in the younger man's eyes. Five days since they'd been gone.

Cobb was in the process of looking into a new target and had taken Eames and Ariadne with him to help him plan for the new job. Ariadne needed access to the man's home and office so she could re-create them in the dream world and Eames needed to study his family and business associates, also so he could re-create them during the job. Arthur and Yusuf were left back at the warehouse to gather the information that couldn't be obtained directly. Arthur had been elbow-deep in computer files when they left, his back turned to them and his shoulders hunched as he typed furiously. None of the others seemed to notice but Eames was sure Arthur hadn't slept the night before. They had left the day after Arthur's nightmare (Cobb asked about the bruise that was forming on Eames' jaw but he'd just smiled and waved it off) and the night before they left, Eames had stayed up for nearly the entire night watching Arthur type away at the computer. He fell asleep around 5:30 and woke up at 9 and Arthur was still at the computer looking as if he hadn't moved all night.

Eames tried to convince himself that Arthur was avoiding sleep simply because he was busy; being a Point Man could be very time consuming especially when your boss was Dom Cobb. But no matter how hard he tried to make himself believe this was the case, he couldn't shake the feeling that Arthur was forcing himself awake for a different reason.

The taxi pulled to a stop in front of the ware house and Eames gathered his bags, slinging them over one shoulder. Cobb and Ariadne had stayed behind, still trying to perfect their plan and the architecture involved. Eames had given them an easy smile and said he needed to go back to the warehouse to start working on his characters. In reality, he wanted to go back to check on Arthur; something still wasn't sitting right with everything that had happened a few days earlier. He was on a plane within the hour.

Now, stepping out onto the rain-slicked sidewalk and looking at the dark, looming form of the warehouse, the feeling of apprehension he'd managed to keep back the entire time they'd been gone was slowly beginning to work its way to the surface. He paid the driver and pulled the side of his jacket up to his face to block some of the rain. Thunder rumbled distantly as the taxi pulled away and he shrugged his bag a little higher on his shoulder as he walked to the door.

The metal doors scraped open, dragging sharply across the gouged concrete. It was loud and irritating and Eames honestly couldn't be more grateful the sound. The lights were on, dimly lighting the open floor in the middle of the room. The side offices were dark and there was a stale smell of coffee in the air as he walked in. Yusuf was nowhere in sight but Eames wasn't too concerned with his whereabouts, all he was worried about was Arthur.

The younger man was sitting in the corner of building, back toward him and eyes focused on the computer in front of him. He looked like he been there ever since they left. Eames set his bag down softly and walked across the room, keeping his movements slow and deliberate. The last thing he wanted to do was scare the younger man senseless by sneaking up on him. "Arthur?" He said quietly as he got closer.

Arthur spared him a half-glance over his shoulder. "Hello Mr. Eames." He answered automatically, almost as if it was programmed. Eames frowned, walking closer. "Was the trip a success?" Arthur asked casually, never turning to face him.

"Yes, we gathered all of the information we needed." Eames answered simply, his eyes landing on the multiple coffee cups arranged in a neat, straight line along the side of the computer. There were at least six, maybe more, but it meant that Arthur had been drinking a lot of coffee in their time away. Eames frowned again. "Arthur, have you slept at all since we've been gone?" He asked, his eyes still focused on the coffee cups.

"Yes." Arthur answered quickly; too quickly. It was a lie. "I've just been busy, Cobb wants this information by the time he gets back." The Point Man never turned around and Eames was pretty sure that even if Cobb expected the files upon his return that he wouldn't demand the younger man to stop sleeping to get it all done.

Eames took a step forward, leaning against one side of the desk and looking down at his team mate. "Arthur, what's wrong?" He asked quietly; there was no teasing edge in his voice, he wasn't trying to get a rise out of the young man, he was genuinely concerned.

"Nothing is wrong Mr. Eames." Arthur replied, never taking his eyes off the screen. His face was pale, dark circles forming beneath his eyes, and he looked gaunt like he hadn't eaten in the days since they'd left. He could seen the thin bones in his wrists and hands as they worked furiously at the keyboard.

"You're lying." Eames said sharply, causing a momentary pause in the Point Man's typing. "Something is bothering you and for some reason you refuse to tell anyone about it. It doesn't have to be me, it can be Cobb or Ariadne or anyone else, but it will do you no good to work yourself to death, love." The Forger lowered his voice at the end, hoping some of what he was saying was getting through.

There was a newspaper, carefully folded, sticking out from the bottom of the neatly stacked papers next to Arthur's elbow. It was nearly hidden by the other papers but it was visible enough for Eames to see it and carefully tug it loose from the stack. The paper was dated to about a week and a half ago and there was an article highlighted and circled in red. '_Police Capture Alexander Reid at International Airport' _was scrawled across the top of the article in long, sweeping letters. Eames scanned the article briefly, wondering what it was doing tucked beneath Arthur's files. "What is this?" He asked, holding up the article as Arthur turned to face him.

The younger man's eyes widened suddenly and he made a grab for the paper, just barely missing it as Eames snatched it away. "Give that back." He demanded, dark eyes narrowing.

"No." Eames stood and stepped away from the desk just as Arthur stood and took a step toward him. "Not until you tell me what's going on."

"Its none of your business." Arthur snapped, lunging toward him again and trying to grab the newspaper. Eames side-stepped, easily avoiding the grab which was surprising considering Arthur's normally quick reflexes.

"This man has something to do with your nightmares, doesn't he?" Eames asked, watching as a mixture of shock and something close to fear flashed through the younger man's eyes before it disappeared again.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Arthur growled, taking another step forward so he was closer to Eames. "This has nothing to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me!" Eames snapped back, keeping a firm grip on the paper. "Arthur, I'm part of your team, yes, but I'm also your friend and this...whatever this is..." He gestured vaguely between Arthur and the newspaper. "Is not healthy! Whoever this man is, whatever connection he has to you, we need to know about it! You can't keep secrets from the team!"

"Cobb did it, why should I be any different?" Arthur snapped bitterly, his dark eyes narrowed. He swayed unsteadily on his feet and for a second, Eames thought his was going to fall but he regained his balance.

"Yeah, well look how well that turned out." The Forger shot back; he knew the situation with Cobb and Mal was difficult and not easy to explain (Ariadne was still trying to work things out of Cobb the others didn't know about) and he hated bringing it up but it was something that needed to be done.

Arthur took a deep breath, still swaying a bit, and shook his head. "You can't help me with this, Eames. You don't understand."

"Of course I don't understand! You aren't giving me anything to understand! All I know is that you haven't slept in nearly a week and it has something to do with this!" He shook the paper as if it were a bad puppy

"Eames..." Arthur growled, his voice loosing some of the heat it had had in it earlier.

"Look, I get that you're used to being the impassive, allof member of our team but that does not mean that you have to-"

"Eames..." Arthur was swaying dangerously again, gripping the edge of the desk for support.

"-Shoulder the weight of the world when something is bothering you. If you would just ask, we'd gladly offer whatever-"

"Eames..." The word had barely left his mouth before Arthur's eyes rolled back in his head and his knees buckled, dropping him to the floor. Eames' eyes widened and he closed the gap between them almost instantly, catching the younger man before he hit the ground.

"Arthur!" He called, the Point Man's head cradled in the crook of his arm. He shook him gently, gaining no response from the younger man. Arthur's hair was disheveled, completely unlike the normally perfectly slicked style he always wore and his suit was wrinkled and unkempt. Definitely not a good sign. "Arthur!" He tried again, reaching up and cupping his face gently. He felt for a pulse, counting in his head and frowning at the rapid, uneven rhythm. It could be blamed on the coffee or the recent outburst but there was no way to be sure. He patted the side of Arthur's face gently, hoping to gain some sort of response. To his relief, the younger man's eyes flickered beneath closed lids.

"Arthur? Come on, love. Open your eyes for me." He hit him a little bit harder, the method having the desired effect when the Point Man winced and shook his head.

"Stop hitt'n me..." He muttered, opening his eyes slowly and looking up at the Forger. There was a brief moment of confusion that passed through his eyes and Eames guessed he couldn't really blame him for being disoriented. A few silent seconds passed before Arthur tried to speak again. "What happened...?

"What happened is you got all worked up and passed out from sleep deprivation." Eames answered, the words coming out a bit sharper than he intended. He kept the younger man cradled in his arms for a few seconds more before gently pulling him into a sitting position. "Come along love, you're getting some sleep tonight before it kills you."

"I'll be fine..." Arthur muttered drowsily, the usual fight and resisitance sucked out of his voice from fatigue.

"Arthur, I don't know how to make this any clearer to you: You. Just. Passed. Out." Eames said, emphasizing each word. "Now I'm not going to have you keel over from exhaustion so you're getting some sleep tonight if I have to tie you to the bed." He kept his hand wrapped around Arthur's arm and helped him stand slowly. "And before you say anything, no. We're not staying here. You're going to sleep in a real bed, away from computers and away from work." He slipped the newspaper into his jacket; they definitely needed to talk about it but not now.

Surprisingly, Arthur put up very little resistance as Eames turned off his computer and steered him toward the door. He didn't fight back when the taxi pulled up and Eames all but tossed him into the back seat, sliding in beside him. He also didn't protest when Eames told him they were going to be staying at his apartment for the evening. Arthur just sat quietly, the same lost, blank look in his eyes as when he'd had the nightmares a few days earlier. There was something going on, something Arthur was hiding, and Eames was determined to figure out what it was.

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**Poor Arthur :( More to come soon! ^.-**


	3. Alex

**Hello all! Okay, so be entirely honest, I'm not very happy with this chapter =/ Something just feels off to me and I'm not sure what it is; I re-wrote it three different times and this was the one I settled on O.o Maybe its just me? If you have any suggestions or comments feel free to let me know! :D Hope you all like it! **

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"Alright, here we are. Come on, love, in we go." Eames muttered, pushing the door to his apartment open with one hand and gently shuffling Arthur in with the other. The living room was dark, the cold air and smelling like a mix between stale cigarettes and too much coffee. Eames walked in behind Arthur, absently locking the door behind him; it was part habit and partly because he didn't trust the younger man not to bolt for the door the minute his back was turned. Arthur didn't seem to be in any hurry to do much of anything though, he just stood in the middle of the living room, examining his surroundings carefully as if he were looking for any kind of flaws. Being a Point Man gave him a keen eye for details. The bastard.

"Sorry about the mess." Eames mumbled sheepishly, walking into the living room and flicking on a lamp as he passed. There was a clothes basket on the floor next to the TV and a few empty glasses scattered across the coffee table and the side tables on either side of the couch. "Had I known I'd be expecting company tonight, I would have made the butler stay later." He smiled a bit, hoping the light hearted joke would have some effect on the young man standing motionless in front of him.

Arthur didn't say anything (Eames wasn't really all the surprised, he'd barely said anything since they left the warehouse) but a very small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. In this light he looked so much younger than he was, vulnerable and lost, standing in a stranger's (Eames wasn't exactly a "stranger" per say but he was in a house that was not his own) living room and unsure what to do with himself. It was a little disconcerting to be honest, the Forger had never seen Arthur look at a loss for anything. He was always impeccably on top of things at all times; he sometimes wondered if anything ever threw Arthur off guard. Tonight, he'd gotten that answer.

Eames took a small step forward, placing his hand on the younger man's arm. When Arthur tensed at the touch, Eames frowned and shook his head slightly. "Arthur, listen to me. You're safe here, love. No one knows where I live and I don't intend on telling anyone either. Whatever you're running from, whoever he is, he can't get you here."

Arthur stared at him for a second, almost as if he was looking for some kind of trick. Finally, he nodded slowly, relaxing just a bit beneath Eames' hand.

The Forger nodded with a smile and looped an arm around the younger man's shoulders. "Right then, first things first. You need a shower." Arthur opened his mouth to say something, probably some sort of snarky remark about Eames trying to get his clothes off, but Eames cut him off. "No complaining. You look like a fresh batch of Hell warmed over and a shower would do you some good." He said, adding as much authority into his voice as he could without sounding too patronizing. That was Arthur's job after all.

Arthur allowed Eames to steer him into the bedroom and then into the bathroom. Surprisingly enough, the bathroom was one of the cleaner rooms in the apartment and Eames actually felt comfortable enough to leave Arthur in the room by himself without him making a long list of all the things wrong with everything from the carpet to the tiles in the shower. He dug through the cabinet and handed the younger man a towel, making his way to the door to give him some privacy. "Try not to fall asleep in the shower, love. I'd hate to have to explain to Cobb how his best Point Man got a concussion from slipping and falling in the shower." He was only half-joking; to be honest he didn't entirely trust Arthur to not pass out again especially if he got light-headed from the the hot water.

Arthur simply nodded and waited until Eames had closed the door to start getting undressed. The Forger heard the shower started a few seconds later followed by the shower curtain sliding back and then closed. He sighed softly and went to his dresser, finding a change of clothes that would possibly fit the younger man. He didn't like this at all. A docile Arthur was something he'd never been faced with and it bothered him more than he liked to admit. He was used to the younger man being snappy and rising to the bait of his teasing. He was used to him arguing and protesting nearly every word that came out of Eames' mouth, proving him wrong just to spar again seconds later. He wasn't used to this, any of this.

He placed the clothes he'd found on the dresser right outside the door, knocking just loud enough to be heard. "There's a change of clothes for you outside." He said and there was a muffled answer from inside the shower. He turned and walked back into the living room, grabbing the empty glasses and nudging the laundry basket off to the corner. He flipped the TV on absently as he passed, needing some kind of noise to fill the background. There were dishes in the sink as well as a little too much trash in the trashcan but he wasn't entirely worried about that at the moment. Judging from his appearance earlier, Eames guessed Arthur hadn't really eaten much of anything for the past few days, probably another reason for the black out earlier. It was too late for delivery or to go pick anything up and unless he wanted to make a late night store run, he was stuck with rummaging around in the pantry to see what he could find.

Eames was never one to cook, he knew how he just didn't like to do it. Living alone tended to take the joy out of cooking anything more strenuous than the occasional macaroni and cheese. He relied on restaurants and delivery for the most part; he usually wasn't home long enough to shop for groceries anyway without them all spoiling by the time he made any use of them. Hell, the only cabinet he had in his kitchen that was fully stocked was the liquor cabinet and that did very little good in this situation.

He sighed and opened the pantry, looking into the mostly empty depths. There were a couple of boxes of 10-minute meals like Hamburger Helper but those usually required some kind of additive like meat that he didn't have. There was a container of coffee (God knew Arthur didn't need any more of that), a package of spaghetti noodles, and a few cans of condensed soup that could probably be put to good use. With a shrug, he grabbed two of the cans and closed the pantry, walking over to the stove and grabbing a pot from the cabinet as he passed. Soup would work, it was probably the best thing for Arthur at the time because it was more likely to stay down than anything else.

He flicked on the stove just as the shower shut off in the bedroom. He heard the door open just slightly and then close again once Arthur had grabbed the clothes from the dresser. The weather man was rambling about the forecast for the rest of the week as he slowly stirred the soup, staring at the murky yellow liquid as it heated. He still wanted to know who Alexander Reid was and why this single man was affecting Arthur as much as he was. He was still struggling with a way to ask when Arthur appeared in the kitchen.

His hair was damp, hanging in his eyes and face from the lack of gel he usually had in it and he looked like he'd literally shrunk in the wash. The shirt was about a size and a half too big for him and the pants hung on his hips loosely. The overall appearance made him look like he was about fifteen. Eames couldn't hide the smirk. "Good shower, dear?" He asked as Arthur took a seat at the kitchen table.

The younger man nodded with a small smile and watched as Eames continued to cook. When the Forger was satisfied with the temperature of the soup, he turned off the stove and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet next to him, pouring the contents of the pot into the bowl. He placed it in front of Arthur, handing him a spoon and sitting down across from him. When the younger man gave him a strange look, Eames narrowed his eyes a bit and glared at him. "You're not moving until you finish all of it." Okay, now that did sound patronizing but he didn't care, he didn't want to risk Arthur blacking out again the minute he stood back up because of low blood sugar.

Arthur smiled a bit and shook his head, eating slowly and silently. Eames watched him for a few minutes, dividing his attention between Arthur and the news, catching bits and pieces of what the anchors were saying. He was still trying to figure out how to appraoch the subject of Alexander Reid but there really wasn't any way to do it delicately. The questions repeated themselves over and over again in his head, making it hard to concentrate. Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer. "Arthur...about earlier..."

The Point Man froze for just a second, staring at the soup as if he'd just seen a fly land in it. He sighed slowly and sat up a bit straighter, looking across the table to the Forger. "You want to know who Alexander Reid is." It wasn't a question.

Eames nodded a bit, focusing on Arthur as well. "I'm not trying to pry into your business, love, but if this man is causing you trouble then-"

"He's my brother."

Eames blinked in surprise and stopped abruptly. "Your brother?"

Arthur shrugged a bit and slumped back in his chair. "Well, the closest thing I had to one, I guess." He was silent for a second before continuing. "My parents were killed in a car accident when I was five and none of my relatives could take care of me so I grew up in foster care, bouncing around from one house to another until I met Cobb. Alex lived in one of the houses with me. He was my best friend, we did practically everything together, and he was the closest thing to a real family that I ever had. He was older than me but we always looked after each other and it made it a little easier to deal with things." Arthur paused, looking down at the table and crossing his arms over his chest slowly.

"When I was about fifteen, Alex started getting involved with these guys that lived a few houses down from us. It was little stuff at first: pick-pocketing, shop lifting, things that could be done easily without the use of force. I tagged along for a while because he told me to and at the time I didn't see anything wrong with it. No one was getting hurt so it was okay, right? But then everything changed. Alex got into drugs and his crimes became more violent; he started mugging people to get their money, men, women, it didn't matter." A dark look crossed over Arthur's face and Eames felt the muscles in his jaw tighten. "I told him he needed to stop, that he was taking things too far, but he didn't listen to me. He told me that I needed to make a choice: stay with him or leave." Arthur shrugged slightly. "I left."

"Alex was furious; he became even more reckless and violent, it was like he was trying to prove something but I never figured out what. He took a lot of his aggression out on me and I let him as long as it meant he wasn't doing it to someone else." Arthur shook his head again and Eames vaguely wondered if the intense pressure that had suddenly formed in the center of his chest was a heart attack or if he was just angry. "The foster family we were living with kicked him out once they found out he'd been taking drugs because they didn't want him to endager the rest of us. He left but he never went far; he still blamed me for abandoning him and he wasn't going to stop until I knew it. He broke into the house one night, completely strung out on something, and I was the only one home. Our foster parents had taken the younger kids to a movie and I had stayed home to watch the house. I'm kinda glad it happened that way...I don't know what he would have done if they were there..." There was a brief pause before Arthur contiuned again. "I don't remember a lot of what happened, all I know is that we started fighting and at some point he threw me through a table and that's about all I can recall from that night. By the time the rest of the family got home, Alex was gone and I was unconscious and covered in blood in the living room."

Eames felt his hand clench slightly under the table, forming fist tight enough to make the knuckles of his hand turn white. "I was in the hospital for a little over two days and my foster family said I could come back to stay with them but I knew it wasn't safe, not for them, not for the rest of the kids, so I left. I didn't go back to any of the houses I'd lived in previously or anywhere he would be able to find me. I left the city and never went back. I thought once I left he'd stop looking for me, get on with his life or whatever it was he was planning on doing, but I was wrong.

"At first I stayed in the state, moving from one city to another in hopes of getting away from him but he always managed to find me. I called the cops a few times but he always managed to stay just out of their reach. Finally I got sick of it and moved out to L.A., hoping that crossing the country would be enough to stop him." Arthur shook his head grimly and drummed his fingers against his leg. "He showed up at my doorstep one day, insisting that he'd changed and that we needed to look out for each other like we used to. He told me that he'd made a lot of mistakes in his life and wanted to start clean but he had gotten into trouble with some guys who didn't take the whole "turning over a new leaf thing" too kindly. He owed them money and they weren't going to let him off the hook without breaking a few fingers or a leg."

Arthur sighed, reaching up and squeezing the bridge of his nose tightly to ward of the headache that was forming behind his eyes. "I didn't know what else to do so I said I would help him this one last time but then he was on his own." He let out a long breath and dropped his hand to the side like a rag doll. "The company I was working for at the time had an Extractor and I had been picking up a few things from him and decided the easiest thing to do was to break into our rival company's private accounts and transfer the money over." He smiled humorlessly and shook his head. "Turns out they had an Extractor working for them too and I hadn't been trained well enough to go up against him. That's how I met Cobb."

Eames was silent for a second, letting the information sink in. He knew Arthur had met Cobb on a job but had never specified anything other than that. To think they had both met working for rival companies was a little ironic to say the least.

"The owner of the other company found me after I tried to hack into his accounts and I was arrested. Not surprisingly, Alex was nowhere to be found." He shrugged a bit. "Cobb was the one who posted my bail; he said I had promise and offered me a job on the spot. It was either that or jail so I took his offer. Cobb knew all about me, he knew about Alex, and he didn't care. He told me everyone had their secrets and left it at that."

Eames was still reeling a bit as Arthur continued. "Cobb trained me, taught me everything he knew and made sure that my amateur mistakes wouldn't happen again while we were on a job. I followed him anywhere and everywhere; if it meant getting away from Alex and everything about him, then I would go to the ends of the earth."

"Alex popped up a few times since then but Cobb always managed to keep us just out of his reach. He became a career criminal and was wanted in several different states for everything from bank robbery to car theft. The paper I found last week was little more than chance but there he was, his name in bold print on the front page." Arthur shrugged a bit, sinking into the chair a bit more like all the life had been drained out of him. "I got a call from the prosecutor a few days ago asking me to come in and make a statement; they want me to testify at his trial."

Eames was speechless for several seconds, looking at the younger man carefully as the story sank in. "Arthur...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Arthur just shook his head, cutting off whatever he was about to say. "Please don't apologize. It wasn't your fault...I shouldn't have let it get this bad but..." He faded off, waving his hand flippantly.

"So what are you going to do?" Eames asked finally, studying the younger man carefully.

"I don't know." There wasa lost quality to Arthur's voice, something Eames had never heard before and wasn't sure he ever wanted to hear again. A heavy silence fell between them; Eames wasn't sure what to say without upsetting Arthur even more so he kept his mouth closed, battling with all the questions that were raging through his mind.

With a sigh he stood, walking over to the chair and placing a hand on Arthur's arm gently. "You're safe here." He said quietly, putting as much conviction in his voice as he could. He couldn't tell him it would be alright or that everything would work itself out, he could promise either of those things, but he could promise the younger man a safe night and a bed to sleep in, even if it was the only things he had. "I'll keep you safe, I promise." That was one thing he could promise without it feeling hollow and empty. He was used to keeping an eye on his team mates while they were working but this was different, they weren't on a job and this was the real world. If something happened here, you wouldn't just wake up with a headache and a jump. If something happened here, it was game over completely. "I'll keep you safe, no matter what."

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**Eeeek O.o Was it okay? Terrible? Let me know! ^.-**


	4. Sleep Over

**Hello my loves! I hope everyone is doing wonderfully! Here's your next chapter! :D**

**A/N: (*) Okay, so diphenhydramine is basically a really fancy way of saying benadryl. Its added to a lot of sleep aids and can be purchased in powder form. In short, Eames drugged Arthur :p**

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Eames looked up from the book he'd been reading, his eyes falling on the slumped form of Arthur leaning against the arm of the couch. The Point Man's head was pillowed in his arm, his hair falling across his eyes, and his body crumpled against the edge of the couch. He looked ten years younger than the uptight, no-nonsense Arthur they were all used to. It was kind of nice to see him in this kind of a relaxed state. Eames was at least 70% sure that the sleep had nothing to do with the diphenhydramine (*) he'd slipped into Arthur's tea before he'd given it to him.

It had taken some time to convince Arthur that he was safe in the apartment and that "Arthur, darling, no matter how many times you look at the door, the deadbolt was not going to come undone." Even with the constant reassurance and the knowledge that Eames had at least one gun hidden in the living room that was close enough for him to get to in a hurry, Arthur was still uneasy. It wasn't until he fell asleep that he stopped glancing at the doors and windows, probably mentally plotting an escape if it was necessary.

The news was droning on in the typical loop fashion and the anchor woman's voice sounded congested and nasally, almost as if she was getting over a cold. Her hair was blond but Eames guessed it had probably been brown naturally and he was nearly certain that her breasts were fake in some way. The man sitting next to her was wearing a suit that he'd probably bought from Wal-Mart and the faint yellow tint of his teeth indicated that he'd used some kind of tobacco product for several years. It was Eames' job to notice these things, pick up on details even if he didn't want to. Honestly, he hated the news, it was the same doom-and-gloom report every day and God, did that get boring. He preferred to read a book but he knew the background noise would help Arthur relax so he left the TV on for his sake. Arthur hadn't bothered to change it.

He glanced over again, watching the younger man carefully like he was trying to determine if the he was really asleep or not. The slow, even breathing was proof enough. With a soft sigh, he tagged the corner of the page he'd been reading and set the book on the table next to him. He stood slowly, the chair creaking a bit with his movement, and walked over to the sleeping man on his couch. Cautiously (he wasn't exactly looking forward to possibly getting punched in the face again), he leaned down and placed a gentle hand on Arthur's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "Arthur." He said, keeping his voice as soft and non-threatening as he could. "Come on, love, wake up. Time for bed."

He'd fully expected Arthur to jolt awake and take another swing at him. He'd been mentally and physically preparing himself for that. Instead, much to his surprise, Arthur simply blinked a few times, staring blankly at the floor from the angle his head was in. His dark eyes shifted up, meeting the Forger's as he leaned down over him. Eames smiled warmly. "There you are." He said quietly, keeping his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Come on, let's get you to bed then, hm?" He said, wrapping one hand around Arthur's arm gently and pulling him up.

Arthur allowed himself to be pulled off the couch and half-led, mostly dragged to the bedroom. Eames' bed was in shambles, the pillows and blanket wadded and tossed haphazardly all over the mattress. It looked like a tornado had landed right in the middle of the mattress and unleashed its fury all over the room. Eames had also been mentally preparing himself for the disgusted tirade Arthur was bound to go on when he saw the state of the room but the Point Man just shrugged slightly at the Forger's apology. He waited for him to make some kind of remark about sleeping in the other man's bed as well, or at least protest a bit. He didn't, he just stood in the door way staring at the mattress and the disheveled sheets. Well, wasn't Arthur just full of surprises tonight?

Eames released Arthur's arm and walked over to the bed, rearranging the sheets and comforter to make it appear at least somewhat like a bed. He moved the pillows up, lining them against the head board, and then turned to face the younger man. Arthur understood the hint without anything needing to be said and shuffled over to the bed, dropping onto the mattress with a tired breath. Eames guessed the lack of sleep (coupled with the drugs) was taking out the usual snarkiness Arthur was equipped with at all times. Right now he seemed almost tame. He kept waiting for the sarcasm to flare up when he realized that (and Eames wouldn't have even been responsible for this joke) he'd ended up in the Forger's bed but it never came. Arthur just shifted under the blankets and collapsed onto the pillow, his body looking even smaller all alone in the largeness of the bed.

Eames waited for a second, watching as the younger man's eyes slipped closed and he fell back asleep. He watched as his breathing evened out and as his body relaxed into the softness of the pillow beneath his head. He stood there, watching Arthur for several minutes, partially to convince himself that he was asleep and partially because he needed to assure himself that the promises he'd made over and over to the younger man ("You're safe, love. I won't let anything happen to you.") were true. With a soft sigh, he turned and walked back into the living room in search of the phone. He needed to talk to Cobb.

**OOOOO **

"You mean you knew about this?" Eames hissed when Cobb sighed in quiet recognition as Eames brought up the newspaper article.

"Yes, I knew about it." Cobb explained carefully. His voice sounded tired, worn, like he'd been woken from an extremely deep sleep. The kind that didn't involve a PASIV machine. I saw the newspaper article a few days ago sitting on Arthur's desk."

"And you didn't think to say anything about it? To talk to Arthur about it?" Eames was livid; he knew that every job was important to Dom and that professionalism was crucial but the fact that he'd left Arthur alone in such a state was more than he could take. "Do you have any idea what this is doing to him?"

"Eames." Cobb said quietly, his voice a bit sharper than it had been before. "I tried to talk to Arthur about it before we left. I asked him if he was alright and if there was anything he needed to tell me and he said no. He told me everything was fine."

"And you believed him?"

"Do you really think I would have left him alone if I knew it was affecting him this severely?" Cobb snapped suddenly, his voice coming out like a verbal slap. "Arthur is a valuable member of my team but more than that, he's one of my closest friends. Do you really think if I had known it was affecting him this much I would have just walked off and left? Tell him to suck it up and deal with it?"

Eames said nothing, his mouth pulled into a grim line. He knew it wasn't true, he knew that Cobb would take a bullet for any member of his team and that if he had known something was bothering Arthur he would have stayed and gotten to the bottom of it. Still, it bothered him to see the Point Man in such a state and the fact that it had gotten this bad made him angry.

There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. "Look, Ariadne and I will be back tomorrow morning and I'll talk to him the minute we get back. Until then, just keep him with you and keep an eye on him, alright? He needs to feel safe with someone and you're probably the only one he trusts as much as he trusts me."

Eames didn't say anything for a second, his fingers wrapped around the poker chip in his pocket. Even through all of the constant bickering and cheap shots they took at each other, he knew Arthur trusted him. He'd known him longer than anyone else on the team other than Cobb, and even if they didn't exactly see eye-to-eye, he still trusted him. "Alright, I'll keep him here with me." Eames said finally; no one needed to know that he wouldn't have let Arthur out of his sight if there was a gun pressed to his head.

"Good." Dom sounded a little more relieved at the Forger's assurance. "Call me if anything come up, alright?" The "anything" was left open but Cobb really didn't feel he needed to specify either.

"Will do."

"Alright." There was a soft click and the call ended. Eames dropped the phone onto the couch and scrubbed a hand over his eyes tiredly. Even with the answers he'd gotten from both Arthur and Cobb, he still felt out of the loop. He hated feeling like he was missing something, it made his job that much more difficult.

There was soft noise from the other room and Eames looked up suddenly. He reached beneath the cushions, pulling out a handgun and gripping it tightly. Keeping the gun pressed against his leg, he carefully rounded the corner and looked into the bedroom. Arthur was shifting restlessly, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps and he looked like he was fighting with an unseen enemy. That was probably due to the fact that he was hopelessly tangled in the sheets.

Eames sighed softly and placed the gun on the dresser, walking into the room and sitting on the bed beside Arthur. He reached out, laying a hand on Arthur's shoulder gently and kept it there. "Its alright, love. You're safe." He said quietly, stroking his thumb over the soft cotton of the shirt in a slow, comforting fashion. "I'm right here...you're just dreaming..."

The words had the desired effect and Arthur began to relax once more, his death grip on the sheets loosening slowly until he was merely holding them instead of clenching them in his fist. Eames kept speaking to him quietly, walking around to the other side of the bed and sliding on the mattress behind him. He kept himself on top of the comforter while Arthur stayed beneath it, keeping that level of distance between them even as Eames curled up behind the younger man, keeping one hand on his shoulder. "You're safe...everything's alright..." The words came out like a broken record, soothing and repetitive, and his rubbed his hand in slow circles from the top of Arthur's shoulder, down his back, and then back up. He could feel the rigid, raised tissue of scars that littered Arthur's back beneath the thin cotton of the shirt. Some were barely noticeable, others were long and thick, indicative of a deeper injury. Eames vaguely wonder how many of these had come from their various jobs and how many had come from Alex.

Keeping his movement slow and gentle, Eames kept that pattern for hours, running his hand down the length of Arthur's back and back up, whispering the same reassuring words over and over. "I'm right here, love...you're safe..."

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**Awww ^.^ **


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